The Traveler in Black meets Harry Potter
by Meteoricshipyards
Summary: A crossover between John Brunner's The Traveler in Black and Harry Potter. What happens when a being with many names, but only one nature, encounters the chaos that is the Wizarding world? For some, tragedy, for others....


Disclaimer: I'm neither J.K. Rowling nor John Brunner. I own neither Harry Potter nor the "Traveler in Black." Dumbledore's plan was stolen with out permission from Ascension Of The Scorpion Sorcerer by Vorlon666.

Author Note: This is crossover between Harry Potter, by J.K. Rowling, and the main character from the "Traveler in Black" stories by John Bruner. I tried to introduce the character so you don't have to have read the Traveler in Black stories to understand what is going on. I do assume familarity with the characters and world of Harry Potter on the part of the reader.

Part 1

The universe had changed. Once it was Chaos. Intelligence could barely survive in a universe where cause and effect had no meaning, time didn't always work, and there were things -- elementals -- who liked it that way. Three times intelligence tried to rise and was beaten back by the Chaos. Then the One To Whom All Things Were Possible created the Traveler, who had many names but only one nature. This unique nature made him subject to certain laws not binding upon ordinary persons. In a compensatory fashion, he was also free from certain other laws more commonly in force. When four significant planets were aligned it was his job to walk that part of the All that was assigned to him, and by his singular nature, he caused Order to come out of Chaos.

As the universe settled down, the alignment of the four significant planets occurred less and less, until the stars in the heavens were set in their courses. But it did happen now and then, according to the laws of celestial mechanics which were hardly ever violated as Order progressively pushed back Chaos. The last time it happened someone told the Traveler his desires and Atlantis sunk. For that is part of the singular nature of the Traveler -- that he grant the wishes of those who express them to him.

There were rules about that, too. It was one of the natures of man that he desired to control Chaos. And controlled Chaos was Order. In the past, as men imposed their control, Chaos retreated until it survived in very few places. Places like the quarks of atoms, which no one had ever asked the Traveler to control, so he reasoned that he might be around for a long time.

Another place where Chaos still held sway was in that part of the human race that were called Witches and Wizards. The Traveler made sure he had a lot of interaction with them.

And so it happened that on a summer night a boy looked up from his gardening in Surrey, England and noticed that there were three evening stars that night. The other was too close to the horizon, and was hidden by trees and buildings. While the boy thought it was strange, he did not recognize the significance of the event.

Surrey was at a place not too far from the location of a city where a particular bright being was chained to a rainbow, and thus it always rained there. Someone once asked the Traveler for a sunny day, and the the bright elemental became nothing. The city soon followed, and that part of the All moved from Eternity to Time.

It was a measure of his success that that anything could be said to be "not too far from" some other location. The Traveler's memory went back to a time when "distance" was a word that meant nothing. Due to his singular nature, it did not have to mean anything to him, but he enjoyed people, the planets were aligned, and with good humor he began his journey.

He looked like a small man dressed in black robes with a hood. He carried a staff made from light curdled by several interesting forces. He wandered through a street in the city of London, and stopped in a pub called The Leaky Cauldron. There he had a mug of something called Butterbeer, a drink he had never encountered before. Much sweeter than the beers at the pubs he used to visit, where the barkeep would dip the mug into the barrel where it had been brewed. The man beside him with a green bowler hat was drinking something stronger and grumbling.

"Tell me friend, what has you so upset?" he asked, amicably.

"It's that damn Dumbledore! This latest scheme to get me out of office with rumors of You-Know-Who's return. I thought we had solved the problem last summer, but no! He turns out to be right, and everyone knows You-Know-Who's back."

"I'm sorry, I don't know Who? I've been away for a long time."

"You know, the Dark Thingie, Lord You-Know. Destroyed by the Potter boy when he was just a baby? Why didn't he have the good graces to just stay dead."

"Someone who won't stay dead, huh. That could be a problem."

"Could be? Could be? He's just the worst Dark Lord in centuries. If he had to come back, why couldn't he wait until after I retired."

The Traveler looked at him, and saw him completely.

"You're the Minister of Magic, why don't you do something about it."

"As if being Minister allows me to just wave my hand and make it all better? He's supposed to be the most powerful wizard in the world, excepting Dumbledore." He took a long drink. "All I wanted was a nice quiet term in office. Was that too much to ask?"

"Not too much to ask, but not very realistic, wouldn't you say? How long did you want this quiet time in your office?"

"If it was quiet? Forever."

"I can't guarantee 'forever.' But as you wish, so be it."

Tom the proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron looked around. He hadn't noticed either the Minister or the little man in black leave. Yet there were their glasses. The Minister's was still half full. Tom scratched his head and cleaned up after them.

In the days that followed, it became obvious that the Minister was truly missing. The head of the Aurors became the new Minister and a lot of information about Fudge came out when they examined the papers in his office. As the information was turned over to the DMLE a major cleanup in the Ministry of Magic was undertaken, and not less than 20 witches and wizards in important positions in the Ministry, and twice as many outside, were arrested and convicted of corruption and bribery.

The statue/paperweight of Merlin that Scrimgeour found on the desk was eventually moved to a shelf, and shortly thereafter hidden by books and papers. Fudge silently cursed when he could no longer see what was going on. He had to do it silently: the statue had no way to emits sounds.

For some reason, none of the succeeding Ministers ever got rid of the statue, and it remained in the office for a very long time. Maybe not forever, but then, what is?

- - -

The boy who had noticed the planets was sitting on a swing in a park as another dusk came. He saw a small man, dressed sort of like a wizard, or perhaps like a monk, walking through the park. There was something strange about the staff he held -- it seemed too white for the evening ambiance. But it wasn't excessively bright, and Harry Potter dismissed it as a trick of the light.

He did watch the man, though. Anyone wearing black robes would bear watching. However, the man wore no mask, and his robes were belted with a rope. He didn't look like a Death Eater.

"Lovely evening, isn't it," the Traveler said, as he walked by.

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry answered. He had been contemplating his place in the universe. As far as he could determine it was below the privvie.

The Traveler stopped and turned to him at the tone of his voice. "Troubles? Would it help to talk about them?" he asked, genially.

Harry looked at him again. "Are you a priest?"

The Traveler shook his head. "No. But if it will help, I can promise you I keep confidences as well as a priest could."

Harry sighed. "What do you know about prophecies."

The little man in black shrugged. "The elemental Wolpek used to give them when he was summoned into a candle flame. It was an elaborate ritual, thought I never understood the point. Of the three prophesies he would give, the first was unintelligible, the second was un-helpful, and the third was inscrutable. Yet people would summon him and do the craziest things as they tried to force the outcome of the prophesies to their liking. Usually it didn't work. Are you the subject of a prophecy?"

"Yes, but I think it falls under the unintelligible category you mentioned."

The Traveler smiled. "I doubt that. When Wolpek wrote the unintelligible prophesies in the smoke of the candle on a piece of glass, he wrote in the symbols of Chaos and they were completely beyond anyones understanding. It's only because Wolpek never lied that we can know that whatever the symbols meant, they were true. My guess is that you are the subject of an unhelpful or inscrutable one. These may or may not become understandable after the fact. But as I said, the uselessness of prophecies is well documented, so I never understood why people go out of their way for them."

The boy laughed. "That's the first helpful thing I've heard in weeks. Well, second; Luna, this girl I know, gave some helpful advice before I left school. So, Friar, or whoever you are. . . . who are you, by the way?"

"I have many names but one nature. You may call me Mazda or whatever you like."

"Hello, Mr. Mazda. I'm Harry Potter."

The Traveler shook the boy's extended hand with a smile. Very few people thought to extend to him the basic courtesies.

"You were about to ask me something?"

"Yes. Do you know anything about the power of love?"

"Love can be a powerful motivator. It can fortify a man when logic says he should have failed or surrendered. The loss of a loved one has destroyed people, sent them into murderous rages, or turned them into beacons of hope."

"But it has no inherent power to defeat evil?"

"Love is an emotion just like hate. Very much like hate, in fact. It can be a simmering, warming emotion; a driving one; or an overwhelming one. It's said the opposite of love is hate, but I think the opposite of both is indifference. But power to overcome evil? As I said, it can fortify you, but magically overcome someone? Hardly. It has defeated hate but you must return their hate with love. There is no guarantee though, and it means you have to withstand the hate which may be expressed physically. Are you strong enough to do so?"

"I doubt I'd live a minute if I tried to answer Voldemort's hate with love."

"Voldemort? He's the Dark Thingie that Fudge mentioned?"

"You know Cornelius Fudge?" Harry was suddenly suspicious. The man had both hands on his staff, but that didn't mean he didn't have a wand up his sleeve.

"Know him? I met him once, a few days ago in a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. Well, if this Voldemort is the evil wizard Fudge couldn't bring himself to name, then I doubt very much that love would overcome his hate. You don't sound very familiar with love."

"Ha! I live with with a family that despises me. I go to a school among people who either hate me because of what they've read or because they support Voldemort, or they look up to me because I'm the Boy Who Lived, something I did when I was a baby and no one is really sure how it happened. My headmaster, who keeps sending me here obviously doesn't care how much I hate it here; he acted like I was lying when I told him my family didn't like me. My head of house doesn't care what happens to me; she let me be tortured for my own good, I suppose, rather than confront the Ministry stooge who was doing it. I just wish someone who cared about me would come and take me away from all this."

"As you wish, so be it."

Harry, who had been looking at his feet while he confessed he feelings of helplessness, looked up at those words. There was no one in sight. Did it really happen? Was there anyone here with him? He'd ask his Order watchers when he got back to his relatives house.

It was now true night. As he was getting up to make his way home, a broom flew out of the evening. He whipped out his wand and was ready to curse whoever it was, when he noticed the long, stringy blond hair fluttering behind her.

"Luna?" he asked, astonished.

"Hello, Harry. I was just going to ask if you knew the way to Privet Drive so I could find your house, but since I found you, we can ignore the whole confrontation with the Muggle about witches and magic leading up to an Obliviate spell."

"Uh, right."

"Yes, it's much easier this way."

"What are you doing here, Luna?"

"Oh, I should ask you, shouldn't I, seeing as we're skipping the whole direction thing. I came to invite you to go Snorkack hunting with us. According to Ginny your family doesn't take you on vacations, and I thought you might like to get away for a little while."

"I," he paused. Why not? Other people went on vacation. "Sure. Do we have time to go to Diagon Alley and get some money from Gringots? And maybe get some clothes that fit?"

"We can do that in Oslo. We'll be there a few days while Daddy gets the permits straightened out."

"Do I need a passport or anything?"

"Oh, Harry, we're not traveling as Muggles, you know. Don't you want to go?"

"YES! Er, yes, I'd love to."

"Then let's swing by your house and pick up anything you need."

"I have everything I want with me," Harry said, as he picked up his backpack. "I decided to keep everything important to me with me at all times, in case I had to make a fast get-a-way. I have my wand, my father's invisibility cloak, my photo album, and Hedwig." At her name, the Snowy owl swooped down to land on Harry's shoulder. "Want to go visit northern Europe, girl?" She gave a bark that Harry took to be an affirmative. "My broom is still locked up in Hogwarts," he added, apologetically.

"That's OK. My broom can handle the both of us. Do you want to drive?"

"Uh, sure."

She slid back, giving him room to get on in front of her. She took the backpack and slipped it on; being behind him, it would be uncomfortable for her if he wore it. She put her arms around him, and rested her head against his back. A little smile appeared on his lips as they took off.

"Which way?" Harry asked.

"Second to the right and straight on 'till morning," she replied dreamily.

"What?"

"Oh, head west. We've got a ways to go before we have to try and find the landmarks to get us home."

Harry brought the broom around to the west, wondering what his guards were doing. He couldn't hear it, but the replacement guard heard Mundungus snoring away in a corner of the garden under his invisibility cloak.

- - -

Down the street from the park, Petunia Dursley was scowling at a group of pre-teens who were walking and laughing.

"Hoodlums," she said. "Rowdies. Making the neighborhood unsafe for decent children. I wish all the criminal children in Little Whinging were arrested and get the book thrown at them!"

"As you wish, so be it," said a little man in black robes, passing in the other direction.

Later that night, the Dursleys and a number of other families were informed that their children, all part of Dudley's gang, had been arrested for assault. They had been caught beating up the same group of children that Petunia had disparaged. Unfortunately, they were caught in the act by a policeman. Vernon was almost arrested himself for trying to bribe an officer to let Dudley out. During the investigation many other children came forward with stories of being beaten and robbed by Dudley's gang. He was convicted, and sent to St. Brutus' Facility for Underage Criminals.

Petunia lost most of her social contacts as the other parents no longer wanted to be around her. The only ones who didn't shun her were the parents of Dudley's gang members. That is until Vernon got into a fight with Mr. Polkiss when the latter commented on their children being in the same place as Dudley's cousin.

After that, the only person who would talk to Petunia was that strange Mrs. Figg.

- - -

In London a few days later, an angry Vernon Dursley muttered to himself, "Clean bill of health, my foot. I've been waiting for years to get that position. Why can't that old fossil, Watkins, die already and let the next generation have a shot!"

"As you wish, so be it," said a small man, dressed similar to a monk, that the Grunnings employee had ignored. He ignored the man's comment too, but wondered about it over the next few days. Watkins was killed that day in a car crash. The company, however, didn't promote Harry's uncle. They brought in someone from outside the company who turned out to not be as gullible as Watkins. The upshot was that Vernon's underlings were questioned on his his work and interpersonal skills. It was discovered that he got the work done, but wouldn't give the time of day to anyone who couldn't help his career. He was put on probation and fired a few weeks later when his frustration with work and home reached a point where he lashed out verbally at one of his underlings.

And the thing that really galled him? The new executive who had come in was younger than Vernon and had the nerve to refer to him, Vernon Dursley, as "an old fossil" as he was leaving the building.

- - -

"Did you see the way they looked at me when I suggested calling the police? It was as if I had grown a second head!"

"But really, Hermione, what could Muggles do anyway? If magic can't find Harry, what chance do the Muggles have?"

"Lots of chance, if Harry went on a Muggle vacation. They could check with hotels and hospitals, seeing who checked in. . . ."

"We already checked with the Leaky Cauldron and the Three Broomsticks."

"Honestly, Ron, if Harry didn't want to be found he wouldn't go to a wizarding inn."

"He might. He might think that we'd never expect him to do that if he were trying to not be found."

"ARRGGG. Wizards have no common sense!"

Ron and Hermione were walking through a tight grove of trees within the Weasley wards. It was just about the only bit of privacy they could get. They were both shocked when another voice they didn't recognize spoke up.

"Of course not. They can't afford it."

The two teenagers spun to face a short man in a black robe, pulling their wands out at the same time.

"Wizards traffic in Chaos. Being too logical is detrimental to their ability to do magic. You yourself have felt that," he said, looking at Hermione.

"Er, yes, that's true. If I over think a spell it makes it more difficult to learn."

"No, impossible. You have to immerse yourself in those magical theories about correspondence points and transmorgification elements and thaumaturge interferences and if you really get into it you factor in the season and the alignment of the planets and entrails of a goat. And in really difficult situations there's the Law of Tuesdays."

"But those last can be discarded for most practical applications. . . ." she started, which caused the little man to laugh.

"But I don't do any of that when I cast spells," Ron interrupted.

"But you don't try to organize magic logically like Miss Granger, do you?"

"Hey! How do you know her name? Who are you, anyway?"

"I have many names but one nature. You may call me Mazda or anything else you care for."

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"No. I am not a follower of Lord Voldemort. I am just a traveler who overheard your conversation and thought I could provide some insights."

"So you're saying that because I view magic logically I have trouble with it?"

"Exactly. That is why wizards came up with those tools for confusing the mind and training it to be illogical. Your companion doesn't try to address the problem logically and doesn't have your problems."

"Hey!" Ron began to protest, but Hermione cut him off.

"But he's very good at chess and that's logic."

"True, but he partitions his life so he doesn't apply logic to magic. Wizards aren't unintelligent as a rule. They just have areas where logic and common sense cannot be used. Many then extend this attitude to other aspects of their lives. They then flee from Muggle life as a defense mechanism; they either no longer or never had the mental tools to make sense of it. Look at the two people said to be the greatest wizards of the age -- Dumbledore is often described as "eccentric" which is just another way of saying crazy. And Voldemort is often called insane."

"But Harry Potter isn't considered mad. Or at least not by people who know him. You just can't believe what the newspapers say about him."

"Yes, Harry Potter is an interesting case, isn't he. He was brought up in a Muggle household but filled with illogic. He was told lazy people are punished, yet he was punished when he worked hard and his cousin didn't. He was punished when he cleaned up something the same way twice and his guardians thought it wasn't good enough one of the times. He's lived with contradictions beyond normal human contradictions. He's all primed for the mentality needed for magic."

'Wait a minute! I just remembered it! The Restricted Section! The Book of the Five Red Elephants! Someone with a single nature has to grant your wish!"

The Traveler grew sad. It was always worse when they knew.

"I wish I were like Harry Potter and rich and famous and everything."

"As you wish, so be it."

Hermione had looked at Ron as he started talking. Ron was looking at her. When they looked back at the Traveler he was gone. Then Hermione took a big breath to let Ron have it.

- - -

Albus Dumbledore wandered the grounds of Hogwarts. It was a beautiful summer day in Scotland, but he didn't notice. He was fuming about the letter that the Weasleys had received.

"Leaving the country on a vacation. Will contact you when I get back. Have a great summer - Harry Potter."

His bird hadn't hung around waiting for a reply. Now no owls could find him. He had forwarded his mail (what mail Dumbledore allowed him to get) to the Diagon Alley Owl Post Office until he returned from "vacation." None of his attempts at tracking the boy had had any success. He must truly be out of the country.

With the sudden disappearance of the Minister Dumbledore was busier than ever. He had the Wizengamot to take care of, the school to still run (thank Merlin it was holidays), and the Order to take care of. He needed Harry stuck at his relatives so he could have Snape continue his Occlumency lessons. If he could get the link between Harry and Voldemort strong enough the death of either of them would cause the other to die, too. He felt bad about that, but this was war, and he was the general, and in war sometimes you had to sacrifice soldiers to win.

Snape insisted that the Dark Lord did not have the boy. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord had discovered that the boy was missing. And now the Prophet was also reporting it. How did this happen? He asked people to keep it quiet. Maybe it was the Weasley children. They were always a problem. The twins kept insisting that the Order actually do something about Voldemort's Death Eaters. What would children who hadn't even taken their NEWTS know about fighting a Dark Lord. They would end up getting everyone in the Order killed. He was sure they had gone to some battles on their own already; Snape reported that the Dark Lord was very upset when some of his supporters were killed in a Muggle terrorizing raid. If they keep that up the Dark Lord will get mad enough to really attack someone. He would have to find conclusive proof of who was attacking the Death Eaters and pass that on to Voldemort. That would stop them.

At that point he noticed someone coming from the forbidden forest. He was robed in black and had a hood up. Dumbledore brought out his wand and yelled, "Halt! Who are you?"

The small man ("Could it be Pettigrew?" Dumbledore asked himself) looked at the headmaster and turned towards him. He wore no mask, and the rope belt was distinctly un-Death Eater-ish. And that staff! There was powerful magic in that staff. Dumbledore looked again. This man was very powerful. But there was something about him; Dumbledore couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Good day to you," the man said.

"What are you doing on the school grounds?"

"I am passing through. The school is between where I was and where I am going. I shall be gone soon."

"Wait! I can tell that you are a powerful wizard. . . ."

"I am not a wizard," came the reply. Inside, Dumbledore smirked. That would be the type of answer he would give. Totally true (probably), but false all the same. Whether this fellow called himself a shaman, a sorcerer, a mage, or an enchanter, he was still powerful. Time for the million galleon question.

"Tell me, sir, do you support Voldemort?" He passed the first test. He didn't flinch at the name of the Dark Lord.

"I don't know. I've never met him. However, as he is probably a wizard, it would be within my job description to oppose him."

"But I am a wizard. Do you oppose me, too?" Dumbledore didn't like the sound of this. He grasped his wand tighter. This could get ugly real quick.

"Perhaps. Wizards are an interesting contradiction. They use the power of Chaos that still lives around the edges of the world, but in order to do so they slowly impose Order on it. As time goes on, there is less and less magic, and wizards are the source of their own destruction. Except when they get out of hand, I don't need to do anything. They will destroy magic and Order and logic will reign."

"That is a very interesting perspective. Do you have any facts to back that up?"

"The very fact that you ask for facts to back up my statement is itself proof that you are a much more rational person than the great wizards of the past. No wizard of Atlantis or Ys or Rovoya would ever consider asking for facts. No, your power, even though it is greater than any other wizard I have encountered this journey, is small compared to the wizards of those old cities."

"And you claim these wizards were more powerful than the wizards of today?"

"Oh, yes. The wizards of Rovoya fueled the economy for the whole country. And the wizards of Ys summoned the dead to fix their problems. Unfortunately, the dead weren't very happy about what their descendants had done to their city, and killed them all. But such is Chaos. Later someone heard stories of the great city of Ys and named their city Par-Ys, 'Like Ys.' Nice place but it gets pretty cold there in the winter."

"All of this is very interesting, but doesn't help me. Do you oppose Voldemort?"

"I oppose all Chaos. Do you?"

"I oppose Voldemort because he is a dark wizard. He spreads fear and chaos like the plague."

"And yet you find yourself frustrated. It would seem that opposing evil should bring people of good will to help you."

"Oh yes, people of good will. People who hate evil, but won't take direction. People who think that they know better than those of us who have been fighting evil for over a century. Oh yes, people of good will without any good will for me. Oh, that I receive the respect and obedience I deserve!" Dumbledore had thrown his head back and proclaimed his desire to the skies.

"As you wish, so be it."

His head snapped down. He was alone.

The first strange thing he noticed was that the elves in Hogwarts Castle didn't wake him up the next morning. The next thing that struck him as odd was when he entered the Great Hall by the back door and saw Minerva leaving through the main door. He called to her, but she didn't respond.

Little did he realize that these were just the beginning.

- - -

Part 3

It was the end of the work day. Ron and Ginny had spent the day at Fred and George's store; Ginny worked the cash register, and Ron stocked. Meanwhile the twins spent most of their time in the back of the shop either producing products, or researching new ones. Hermione, who had been staying at the Burrow, flooed in with lunch from Mrs. Weasley. She had gotten over him blurting out his wish the other day. That evening, the whole local Weasley family showed up at the shop. Fred and George were taking the family out to eat in honor of something they called a distribution deal with some wizards in the New World.

The last to arrive were Bill and Fleur, and the troop marched out to Diagon Alley. They hadn't gone more than a dozen steps before the alley was awash in spells. Later, the Aurors concluded that six groups of five Death Eaters apparated down the length of the Alley, from the Leaky Cauldron to Gringotts. They started casting the death curse at anyone they saw. Most witches and wizards panicked and ran, giving Voldemort's people an easy target that wasn't shooting back. The Weasleys weren't ordinary wizards, though. They fought back, for all the good that it did.

As the Auror's apparated in, the Death Eaters left. It was determined that the Weasleys had killed or disabled six of the death eaters. Ron's mis-aimed Reducto hex had hit a lamppost, and the falling metal pole ended up killing Bellatrix Lestrange. He was hailed as a hero, and received the monetary reward for the capture or death of the insane woman.

He wasn't very enthused about it, though. The rest of his family -- his parents, Bill and Fleur, the twins, and Ginny -- as well as his girlfriend were killed in the attack.

- - -

Dumbledore sat at the bar in the Three Broomsticks. Somehow, Harry Potter's home environment had made it into the paper. How was he to know that when Potter had expressed a desire to not return to his family that they were treating him so badly? And the Wizengamot hadn't listened to his comments about the greater good when they questioned him about why he had overruled the Potters' will. Nor would they accept his word that he had a plan to defeat Voldemort but that it had to remain secret.

The ungrateful mob had voted him out of office. Then the International had revoked his Chief Warlock designation. The Board of Governors of Hogwarts had canceled his headmastership. Amelia Bones had called him into her office to find out what his secret plan was, and almost threw him out when he refused to answer.

Arriving back at Hogwarts he found he couldn't cross the wards on to the grounds. Minerva met him at the gate and let him know exactly what she thought of him and what he had done to Harry Potter (as if he had any control over the boy's relatives). She had had the elves pack his things and deposit them at the gates of Hogwarts. He noticed all the books he had removed from the school library were not among his things.

Now he sat in the Three Broomsticks. His brother Aberforth hadn't let him into his bar!

He ordered another firewhiskey and wondered how things had gone so wrong.

- - -

Voldemort was over his anger about the loss of Bellatrix. He had taken his frustration out on a bunch of Muggles, and was in a slightly better mood. The rest of the Death Eaters were growing increasingly uncomfortable with the stench the pile of dead bodies behind the house were making. Their noseless leader liked seeing them, though, and spoke of a giant pile of dead Muggles larger than the house that would some day be back there.

He called a meeting for that evening to assign the next round of attacks. He wanted to spread terror, true, but his real target was the Aurors. He was going to try to spread them thin and keep them busy and wear them out. Then he would start targeting the Aurors directly.

Yes, before the end of the summer he would have reduced the Aurors enough to ease the attack on the Ministry that would put him in charge of the Wizarding government. And with Dumbledore no longer at Hogwarts, a couple of replacements on the Hogwarts board would give him the school without a fight.

He sat on his throne in the underground room and looked over the kneeling pure bloods and fake pure bloods that obeyed him. He smiled, and they cowered, seeing it. Soon, no one will be able to stand against him! Today England, tomorrow the world!

There was a swish of a robe, and he noticed someone not kneeling.

"Who refuses to kneel to Lord Voldemort?"

A small man in black robes walked from a dark corner.

"Probably lots of people. One thing I've noticed on this journey is that strange fascination people have with celebrities. A sort of hero worship coupled with a desire for their failure. It's always been one of humanity's natures to bolster their own self worth with the failure of another, but until this journey that has usually been seen as a personal failing; it was a sign of pettiness to take pleasure in another's mistakes."

The man walked among the kneeling Death Eaters as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"Who dares to speak to Lord Voldemort like that?"

"I would say many people would, for only a very few know who you are."

"My name will be known throughout the world when I put it under my feet!"

"Alas, I do not see that happening. After all, even now the world is below your feet, yet a very minuscule percentage of the inhabitants know who you are," he said, gesturing at Voldemort's feet, which were on the floor. "It is the nature of the geometry of the world that every time you stand, walk, and most times you sit that the world is under your feet. Of course that applies to every one else, too."

"You mock me!"

"Rather, I bandy words with you, who, as a wizard, uses words to effect chaotic changes to the world, yet you have so little respect for them, or for anything, really."

"Avada Kedavra. Lord Voldemort does not give respect, he gives death," he said in an offhand way, expecting to be rid of the stranger when the spell hit.

The Traveler lifted his staff and the death curse silently disappeared into the depths of the curdled energies.

"Yet you should, for there are a great many things in nature that can kill you and to which it would be in your interest to respect."

Voldemort quailed inside as he saw his spell fail. But he would not reveal his fear to his followers. "Bah! I have taken steps to ensure that nothing can kill me!"

"That is a foolish statement. No matter what you do, death eventually comes. All things have an ending -- even the very universe will someday end. It would be wiser to strive for a useful or happy life rather than spend so much time and energy fighting death. You can't win." the Traveler offered, helpfully.

"Then let's see your end. Death Eaters, kill him!"

A few hesitated, having seen what happened when their master had attacked the small man, but not many. Even the ones who saw the killing curse absorbed by his staff felt that he couldn't stop all of them. Over a score of killing curses were in the air aimed at the black clad interloper.

There are laws in the universe that everyone follows, and there are laws that the Traveler did not have to follow. One was that an object that you could curl your fingers all the way around should not at the same time be large enough to encompass your whole body. But the topological impossibility was presented to the Death Eaters for a very short time as their Avada Kedavras reflected from the Traveler's staff back at the casters.

The Treveler sighed. "Those who live by the sword die by the sword." He looked at Voldemort. "Have you ever considered studying philosophy rather than magic? Much more satisfying, and usually safer, Socrates being more the exception than the rule."

"Are you going to kill me now?" Voldemort asked, ignoring the latest suggestion that he change his ways.

"They desired death and received it. What do you desire?"

"Life. Immortal life."

"Is that all?"

"That would be enough!"

"Very well. As you wish, so be it."

The Traveler left, his purpose complete for this trip. In a hidden dungeon in an unplottable location the bodies of the Death Eaters decayed over the years as the magic that hid them slowly dissipated. Over a hundred years later a researcher studying the remains of some twentieth century cult trying to find the cause of their death in what appeared to be a ritual suicide would discover a new species of amoeba.

For a single cell creature doesn't have to die. After it divides it could still be said to be the same animal. So which of the mostly harmless copies of the amoeba was Voldemort is a question left to the philosophers.

- - -

Harry Potter sat in the three room tent that the Lovegoods used for their trip to Scandinavia.

He held the last letter Hermione would ever write. It described her concerns about the illogical nature of magic and how that explained much of the insanity she had noticed in the magical world. He looked around, noticing -- really noticing for the first time -- the impossibility of the inside being larger than the outside of an object. It was crazy. He felt threatened by the tent.

He went outside.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

Luna sat next to Harry near the campfire.

"Magic. It doesn't make sense."

"Lots of things don't make sense, Harry. Even in the muggle world -- How can those huge airplans stay in the sky when they're so heavy?"

"Airplanes. And just because we don't know the reason doesn't mean that the people who designed them don't know the reason. And they stay up there because of air pressure on the wings. That's something they taught me in Muggle school -- holding up a piece of paper by sucking in a straw, and holding up a pingpong ball by blowing at it. You see, the idea behind it is simple enough to teach a young child.

"But Muggles work very hard at finding the underlying cause of things and then applying it. According to Hermione, when wizards do that, they find that things don't make sense and have to reject logic just to get their spells off."

He pulled out his wand and said "Wingardium Leviosa" while giving a perfect flick and swish and aiming at a feather. There were no underage magic restrictions where they were camping. But it didn't matter. The feather didn't move.

"See that? That's something else Hermione said in her letter. Wizards and witches can't afford to use logic with magic because when they try, they are unable to cast the spells."

"So does this mean you are a squib now?"

"That's how it appears. I haven't been able to cast a spell since I came to the conclusion that magic is illogical."

"But don't you see, Harry? You have to believe to make it happen!"

"But if something has to be believed to be real, is it real?"

Luna looked down and said, "I believe I love you."

Harry gently lifted her head to look straight at her and responded, "I know I love you."

"But I'm a witch?"

"And so was my mother. I can live with that. Can you live with the fact that I'm not a wizard?"

She nodded. They hugged.

- - -

Dr. Harry Potter led the parade of laughing children down the path from the lake where they had spent several hours on his pontoon boat. The breeze brought the smell of hot dogs and hamburgers cooking over a grill. One of his grandchildren had pointed out the four evening stars near the horizon, but he hadn't recognized the significance.

As they reached the campground proper, the children broke into a run for the set of campers and tents that his extended family was using. Harry was still in good shape, but he didn't feel any need to run. He just kept an eye on the crowd to make sure none got lost.

"That's quite a throng," said a voice beside him. Harry turned to see a small man dressed in black robes with a slightly glowing walking stick. He became wary. There seemed something magical about this fellow.

"Yes, my grandchildren. I'm Dr. Potter, and you are?"

"I thought so. You've come a long way from being a student wizard in Surrey."

"I'm not a wizard. I have no magic, no matter what anyone says."

"I know. I'm just commenting on your change of location."

"I had to leave England. They couldn't accept that I had no magic. Dumbledore kept insisting that I could destroy the Dark Lord Jeremy with him, but I think it was just a plot to get him accepted by Wizarding society again. He never could understand that 'the greater good' was only his opinion, and other people might have different opinions. Oh well, he's gone now."

"Yes. A lot of Wizarding Europe is gone."

"They couldn't see what they were doing to themselves, the fools. Inbreeding, murderous factions, insane wizards very blatant in their insanity and yet people rallied to them! Not only on the dark side, but even the Light wizards produced crazies. And did you know that the prevalence of single child families in the magical world was the result of magic use? I tried to tell them, but they wouldn't listen."

"You are remarkably informed for someone who gave up being a wizard."

"A friend of my parents' kept me informed of the goings on in England for many years until I discovered a cure for his lycanthropy. Then he left, too. Turned out to be remarkably simple to cure if you looked at it scientifically. Led to a lot of new medical knowledge, too."

"You sound very satisfied with your life."

"Oh, yes. I just wish. . . ."

The Traveler looked expectantly at the other man.

"Naaaa. I am content. And hungry. Want a burger?"

"That's very kind of you. But I think I'm needed elsewhere. Have a good life, Harry Potter."

"And you too, sir."

The Traveler smiled. Very few people in his long existence had wished him anything. He said, "As you wish, so be it," to himself and went on with his job.


End file.
